A Helping Hand
by Kylara Kitsune
Summary: Sometimes, to see what's right in front of you, you need someone to provide that first push in the right direction. Charlie/Hermione


**AN: Written for prompt 12 of the LJ 30 breathtakes challenge (as ever, see my profile for the full list). Not my characters, but you know that.**

"I hate heels!" The angry voice just outside his hotel room door was very familiar, though he hadn't heard it raised in such a way since the girl in question had been dating his youngest brother. That had been, he realised in shock, about seven years ago.

"Good morning, Hermione." He grinned widely as he exited the room, adjusting his shirt collar.

She glared at him. "It may be a good morning for you, Charlie Weasley, but you're not the one who has to follow the groom and... er... groom down the aisle in such a ridiculous pair of shoes! I don't know what possessed Harry bloody Potter to choose the damn things in the first place. I swear he does it to make me suffer."

Charlie couldn't help but laugh. Hermione Granger had spent years admonishing his brother Ron about his use of foul language, and here she was doing exactly the same thing. Thirteen years of close friendship had clearly had an effect on her. "I may not be wearing the shoes, Hermione, but I will be walking down the aisle after them. I'll keep you upright, I promise."

She'd completely forgotten his role as Ron's best man – a surprising choice, everyone had said at the time. "Thank you. I appreciate it. The last thing I need is to fall over and make a laughing stock of myself at their wedding."

Politely, Charlie held out his arm for her to take. She accepted gracefully, and he helped her down the stairs, and into the lobby, where Mrs Weasley was waiting. "There you are, Charlie, Hermione. What took you so long?"

"It's my fault, Mrs Weasley – I was having a little trouble with my footwear."

Mrs Weasley shook her head in despair. "How many times have I told you to call me Molly? You're practically family – you would be family, if it were up to me." A sigh, another shake of the head. "Not that I don't think of Harry as another son, but I really thought you and Ronald..." As though realising a wedding should be a happy occasion, Molly Weasley straightened herself up and smiled. "Still, never mind."

Charlie ran through his memories in his head – looking back, it was obvious that Ron and Hermione would never have made things work between them. She was career-driven, passionate about her job, whereas Ron was so laid back he was almost horizontal. A feisty woman, he realised, not the bushy-haired bossy know-it-all he remembered her as being. Despite this, she was treated as one of the guys, always had been – it was as though his brother and Harry didn't even notice she was female most of the time.

As if to confirm the conclusion he'd just arrived at, Ron appeared, gaping openly at Hermione. "Bloody hell, Mione, you look like a girl for once!"

"I am a girl, as you very well know. You just seem to forget most of the time."

She was wrong. She wasn't a girl, she was most definitely a woman, and someone needed to make her aware of the fact. Yes, the dress she wore showed off curves in all the right places, and having long-since tamed her hair, it fell down her back in smooth curls. It looked as though she felt awkward though, uncomfortable with appearing so feminine. When he thought about it, he'd never actually seen her in a skirt, apart from her school uniform, once. At the Burrow, she'd always worn those Muggle jeans, like he did most of the time.

"My brother may not have the best way of phrasing it, but you do look very pretty, Hermione."

She blushed. "Thank you."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Somehow, the ceremony went off without a hitch. Hermione made it down the aisle safely, clutching Charlie's arm so tightly he was worried about losing circulation. The newlyweds were presented to the assembled crowd, and then everybody seemed to disperse.

"Well, you survived it." Charlie smiled, rubbing his arm where it had gone numb.

"I'm so sorry about that – I didn't realise I was holding on so tight."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. The dragons are much worse than you could ever be." He pulled up his sleeve, showing her a shiny, red patch of skin – his latest burn.

She winced. "That must have hurt."

"Not as much as some. Come on, Miss Granger, I think we're expected in the reception room for the speeches."

As best man and chief bridesmaid (ok, only bridesmaid, if that was even the right word), they both had speeches to make. Charlie's focused mainly on Ron, while Hermione related some of the adventures the three of them had been through at Hogwarts. After the applause came the meal, during which she could, thankfully, sit down. Sinking into her chair, she kicked off her shoes with a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, the respite proved all too short. "On your feet, Hermione!" Harry Potter took her hand, hauling her up.

"What now?"

"It's tradition – you have to dance with us. And then you have to dance with the best man."

"You'll excuse me, won't you, Charlie?" She looked along the table at him, with wide, pleading eyes.

"No, he won't. It's my wedding and I want it done right."

Having no respect for her lack of co-ordination, Harry whirled her around the dance floor much faster than she would have liked. Ron, however, was far worse. Treading on her toes all too frequently, making comments about how they'd all be attending Hermione's wedding next.

"I know how much you want to be my bridesmaid, Ron, but don't get your hopes up. I'm not dating anyone, remember?" Knowing just how fiercely he was blushing, Ron kept his mouth shut. Anything he said was likely to make the situation worse.

"She's all yours, Charlie."

His older brother laughed at the colour of Ron's face. "What did she say to you?"

"You don't want to know," Ron muttered, darkly.

As he took Hermione in his arms, the music changed to a stately waltz. "Care to dance, Miss Granger?"

"I'd love to, Mr Weasley." They began to waltz, very formally, around the ballroom. They kept it up for about ten seconds, until Charlie started to laugh.

"I haven't been called Mr Weasley since... Actually, I'm not sure I ever have."

"There's a first time for everything."

"Very true."

At the end of the song, they both considered their duties done, and sat down at a quiet, out of the way table with relief. On the way across the room, Charlie helped himself to a bottle of champagne and two clean glasses, pouring them both a drink as soon as they'd settled into their chairs.

"Thank you, that's just what I needed."

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Never saw you as the type who liked to drink."

"I don't, normally, but it's been one hell of a day, and it's not over yet."

"Good point."

They stayed there for the rest of the evening, left alone by the happy couple, surprisingly enough. The two of them had never really spoken much before, what with the age difference and Charlie's job in Romania, but they had a great deal in common, if you looked past the surface differences. Shared attitudes to their work, their families and friends, and life in general, were what mattered.

Charlie felt himself being drawn to the young witch beside him, noticing little things about her – the way she pushed her hair back behind her ears, the gold flecks in her chocolate-coloured eyes, the... He shook himself, mentally. This was his little brother's best friend, for Merlin's sake. He shouldn't be thinking of her like this, even though she was an adult. There was too much of an age gap...

Oh, to hell with it all, he decided. The woman was turning him on without meaning to, probably without even knowing it. He had to do something.

"Hermione..." He leaned across the table, rested one of his hands on hers. "If I'm doing something horribly wrong here, then slap me, or something."

Before she could reply, or he could lose his nerve, he brushed his lips against hers.

Hermione had been on dates since breaking up with Ron; she'd kissed men before, but always felt as though something was missing, something important but indescribable. Kissing Charlie was completely different – it was like everything she'd ever wanted and more. She'd found what she wanted, without really knowing what it was. She forgot about their surroundings as her hands tangled in his hair of their own accord, forgot about her friends' wedding, lost herself completely in his kiss, and the caress of his hands on her back, her arms, her waist. She'd never imagined that a simple kiss could be this way.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Across the room, the happy couple stood watching them with great interest. They'd plotted for months to get Charlie and Hermione together. Ron had eventually settled on the current plan – if Charlie was best man, and Hermione bridesmaid-in-chief, they'd have to at least walk down the aisle side by side, and dance together.

"So, it worked."

"Of course it did. How could you ever doubt me?"

Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs, playfully. "Let me think... most of your plans don't work, so I didn't really think this one would be any different."

"Mum will be thrilled. She always wanted Hermione as a daughter-in-law. She'd just chosen the wrong one of us, that's all."

"Hey, don't rush things just yet. Give them time."


End file.
